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RPlog:Mr. Karrde and Mr. Kreldin
Danik waved his fedora across his face, perspiration dripping down from his forehead as the twin suns of Tatooine shined down upon him. He hated Tatooine. He hated the enviornment, the people, the climate, the two suns, the sand, the smell, the heat. Everything. He had been here not too long ago on a quest for Axel Vichten, but now he was back again, tagging alongside his partner, Wescal Cantrell. He wasn't even sure why Cantrell had to come back; maybe it was that enourmous bounty that was recently placed on the heads of two lowly scum. He didn't know. He just wanted to get off as soon as possible. This wasn't the best place for a wanted man to be hanging around, anyway. And where was Cantrell, his bounty guard? Sighing, Kreldin walked down the sandy pathway of Main Street North towards the south east, hoping to land himself at Chalmun's Cantina where Cantrell was probably hanging out. Or so he hoped. A few wander the open street at mid-day, when the angle of the suns leave little shade. Those who do either suffer or adapt. One man, a human, strides alone up from the direction of the dirty port. He's a fair mix of offworld and Mos Eisley, clothing from cooler climes, with a gauzy local hooded cloak keeping the suns' light off him. Karrde's not in the best of moods, judging by the thin line of his lips and his somewhat impatient walk. Indeed, though, it is not a good spot for wanted men, and his blue eues squint against the bright light, keeping a lookout. Taking a sip of water from his canteen, Kreldin leaned against a wall in an alcove, to refresh himself and get a bit of shade before returning to the street. Closing the lid to his canteen, he placed his Fedora back on his head and got off the wall, returning to the street - not looking around before he walked back onto the street, Kreldin bumped into another man who happened to be walking down the street. "Sorry, sorry," he said, patting the man on the shoulder. That was, of course, before he looked at the man's face to see it was none other than Talon Karrde himself. Karrde has his gaze on more shady-looking beings lurking across the street in the shade, when the man bumps into him. Normally, sure, a casual bump, a swift check of pockets to make sure it wasn't a pickpocket job, and things are dealt with. Indeed, the smuggler chief is in the midst of the pocket check, some banality on his lips in response to the apology, when he also sees just who he's literally run into. Recognition is swift; after the 'punishment' the Imperial enacted on the public vid against him, it's a face hard to forget. Without a word, the man starts taking a long step or two backwards, his pocket-checking hand moving instantly to start drawing the heavy blaster at his side instead. Out of the millions of inhabited planets, out of the hundreds of trillions of beings, Danik had to run into this one on one of the most obscure planets in the galaxy. What the heck was that all about? Certainly more than just a coincidence. Had fate set these two against each other? Payback for what Danik did to Karrde and the Chandrilians? Who knew. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about such things; danger was present, and Danik's survival instincts quickly came alive. His right hand quickly reached for his holster against his hip, attached to his belt. A Kylan-3 was quickly pulled out of the holster, set to firing mode. His eyes watched as the smuggler backed up a bit, his own weapon forming in his hand. "It seems fate has a sense of humor. There's no escape for you this time." "A comment I would have expected from you, Kreldin," Karrde replies icily. The memory of what the other's actions on Chandrila had done, and the subsequent changes in affairs, are still fresh, and the smuggler chief is not interested in an intellectual debate with the Imperial officer. Some distance gained, the man's weapon fires, the subtle change of setting with a thumb a hair before the trigger finger tightens, and the smuggler chief tenses, as if throwing himself to the side at this range would help. "Nothing but lowly scum. Die like the flith you are," Kreldin said, both hands gripping the Kylan-3 pistol. There was no time for fancy gunslinging like he typically performed prior to a fight or in the midst of one; shoot now or die. The smuggler chief moved to the side, and Danik quickly followed the chief with his blaster...his finger squeezed back on the trigger, releasing a blast towards Karrde's direction just as a stun blast from Karrde's DL-44 whacked into the Imperial. Suddenly Danik's world became very hazy. His weapon dropped to the sandy road below him. He placed his arm against a wall next to him, using it to support himself to stay up. But it was over. Danik fell down face first, his eyes closing as his world became dark. The double shots echo, one more of a whine as the stun blast splashes into the Imperial and the other much more powerful. Karrde's dodge to the side becomes more of a collapsing fall, as the bolt embeds in his torso. Sand kicks up as the man also falls to the ground heavily, his own weapon nosing into the loose sand there. A moment of silence, then a faint groan, from Karrde. Danik's eyes slowly flutter open. Where was he, and what happened? His brain was too confused to figure anything out at the moment. Slowly, his head turns and his eyes begin to adapt. He was still lying there on the street, his blaster still at his side. Oh right... he had run into that Karrde guy and then.. and then. Ugh. Guess he was fortunate that it was just a stun blast. But..where was Karrde? He slowly stood up, collecting his Kylan-3 as he did... he was still a bit wobbly, and he still hasn't fully recollected his bearings. But, there was no mistaken it...there was Karrde's body, on the street. Danik slowly inched towards Karrde's body, his Kylan-3 aiming... aiming... then it fell once again onto the floor, and Danik with it. Danik returned to the world of darkness once more. Karrde is slightly distracted by threatening darkness, due to the solid blaster wound in his torso, to notice Danik's struggling toward consciousness in the quest to finish him off. Movement seems best, movement and... security, perhaps, as a hand gropes for the DL-44 as Danik passes out again just behind him. Struggling himself, the smuggler chief begins slowly dragging himself through the sand, vaguely in the direction of one of the many alleyways. Indren had been talking to Zed south of the shoot-out sight shortly before heading north toward the Residential Area and his facility up there. On his way north he meets a few bystanders, some rather frantic about seeing two men shoot it out with each other in the street. Another day on Tatooine, Indren mumbles, his armor still sporting the faint residue of blood from the Gamorrean fool that had dared to show his face in Mos Eisley earlier that day. He is glancing at an alleyway when he spots a many lying in the street. Recognition crosses the Ithullan's handsome features and he moves quickly to Danik's side. He leans over the man and forces his eyelids open with his gloved fingers. "Stunned..." He reaches around to his side and withdraws a small caplit from the tiny midkit he carries. He places it under the man's nose forcing the strong scent into his nostrils. Brandis had been tinkering in his lab, more for something to do as a stopgap for boredom, than for any real projects he had going on that needed his attention to succeed. Then the comm unit began squalling, which certainly got his attention, and it didn't take him long at all to find a cowl to protect himself from the glare of the doubled suns and make his way out of the house and on a short mission to track the source of the distress call. Since he was already travelling the side-alleys to avoid unnecessary entanglements with the locals, his choice of routes is propitious, as it brings him almost directly upon Karrde's currently location. He doesn't react with panic or indeed, any trace of emotion at all, his mind switching over to practiced physician as he crouches down to examine Karrde's wound before even considering moving him. So close...he was so close. One squeeze of the trigger and the life of the smuggler would have faded away. But luck was certainly on that smuggler's side. Danik slowly regained conciousness once more as Indren placed the caplit under his nose. The scent awoke Danik from his stunned state, and he was slowly standing up not long after. It took Danik a moment to recognize the Ithllan who had helped him; it was none other than Indren. He met with the Ithullan only a few weeks ago on this very planet to get some information on Axel Vichten. Collecting his Kylan-3 and fedora from the floor, Danik placed his Kylan away and his fedora back atop his head after dusting away some of the sand it had attracted to it. "Thanks for the help.. probably saved my life," he said, figuring if Indren hadn't come along when he did that some street scum could have easily ended Danik's life while he was unconscious. Danik's eyes quickly scanned the area where Karrde had been, only to see a few drops of blood where he had been laying. "It was Talon Karrde.. he attacked me in the street. I got him in the torso, but it looks like he got away.. did you see which way he went, or if someone was helping him?" The alleyway is dirty, but likely on of the most welcome places this week for Karrde. Pulling himself across the sand by his elbows, he keeps a death grip on the blaster, fumbling for the comlink he carries. The frustration of getting it out of his pocket while prone, in agony, proves to be too much, and the man tries to pinch the device from memory. As there is a gratifying tone, muffled by fabric, the smuggler chief jerks his head toward the approaching figure, DL-44 dragging through the sand in weak response. No words are said, but it's clear he's trying to get the weapon into a position to defend himself against... whomever crouching over him now. Lyssia arrives from the Residential Area -Mos Eisley-. Lyssia has arrived. Indren listens to Danik's words and scans the streets and alleys around them, then he spots a man crouching over another man...obviously wounded by still living. (Indren had seen many wounded humans in his time. They usually ALWAYS lay face down until death is certain...then they'll face the sky.) He looks at Danik and says, "Bet that's him." He stands up, but doesn't reach for any weapons. The Ithullan's hands do come to rest on a round, cylindrical shaped object attatched to the front of his belt. This isn't going to go well, Brandis surmises. "Peace, Karrde," he murmurs quietly, placing a calming hand on the smuggler chief's shoulder. He looks up just at the right moment, and catches Indren looking back at them. Troubling, to be sure..he runs over the options he has at his disposal, even as he gives a clinical assessment of Karrde's injury, which is serious by his estimation. There are too many of them for him to simply fool them all into thinking that they were never there. Brandis makes a snap decision to get them both out of sight, and risks more harm by lifting Karrde to his shoulder in one smooth motion, and moving as quickly as possible to get his employer somewhere safe, where he can treat him without threat of interruption. Danik nods towards Indren as the Ithullan had apparently already found Karrde; made sense, he figured. The man was wounded and wouldn't have gotten very far unless he had help. Maybe help was on the way? Danik wasn't too thrilled about going up against Karrde's gang...he had enough trouble with just Karrde himself. Still, he had a chance to get rid of this nuisance once and for all, and regain his honor. Karrde had slipped through his fingers too many times already, and the prideful Imperial could no longer stand for it. However, there was one man who was over Karrde..either he was helping him, or stealing some of his belongings. Either way, he was but mere flith, and Danik wasn't going to let the man get in his way. Equipping his Kylan-3 once more, Danik approached the two...only to watch Brandis lifting Karrde up and running away. "Damn it!" he shouted, and quickly gave chase. The risk is real, for as Brandis hoists him up, there's a small strangled noise of pain from Karrde. Blackness again threatens, but long-engrained paranoia hasn't told the man that it's safe to pass out yet. Fighting off unconsciousness, the smuggler chief doesn't resist as he's carried. The DL-44, set still to 'stun', drops from his grasp. Indren follows Danik as he sparks off toward the alley way. As he sprints he hoists his helmet over his head, hiding his identity beyond those that recognize his armor. He then moves his hand away from the cylinder on his belt to the SSV Carbine that is latched against his back. He pulls it down and moves to cover Kreldin's rear as they head into the alleyway. This wasn't going to end well for anyone. They head into the alley and away from the main street. Brandis hears their steps coming behind him, and is nearly certain that he's in for a great deal of trouble. He can't fight effectively with Karrde draped over his shoulder like a sack of flour, and he's consciously worried about doing him more harm than good by lingering in the alleyway, but he's also aware of the fact that Karrde would have a fit if he left the blaster behind, and the sound of it clattering to the ground is annoyingly loud, giving away their position just around the next turn in the alley. Bracing Karrde with one hand, he holds out the other and calls the blaster to him, wrapping it in the living Force to manipulate it without ever touching it until it lands in his hand where he grips it firmly and prepares to fire at whoever comes around the corner first. Danik was a pilot, not a ground pounder, and as a result he was a bit out of shape. Not to mention this was definitely not the best enviornment to chase after someone on foot. As he turned a corner, he expected to see them - but only saw more alleys. He was just about ready to give up, as he was nearly out of energy, until he heard the sound of Karrde's blaster dropping to the floor. He ran forward and turned down the alley to the source of the sound, only to run into Brandis with the blaster in hand. The care that Brandis can give about abrupt movements is helpful, as Karrde pushes back just becoming little more than a sack of weight for the doctor. As they stop and turn, the smuggler chief stirs, mumbling a question and turning his head to peer at what he can see of the alley. Even when his would-be rescuer isn't trotting, the pain is clearly etched on an increasingly pale face. Indren isn't quick enough to stop Danik from rounding the corner. He didn't know about the man's abilities on the ground or in the air. He did know his position within the organization though and that denoted high military ability. Its obvious the man was used to the deck of a ship and not the blasted sands of Tatooine. He curses under his breath as he realizes Danik had just stumbled into a trap. His right hand reaches to his weapons pouch along his right side.... Would-be rescuer isn't far from the truth to Brandis' own mind, as he's confronted by two people who've taken far too much interest in the continued health of the smuggler chief draped over his shoulder. Brandis is so tempted to simply lean against the wall and catch his breath. It isn't that he's out of shape, far from that, it's that he's not used to hauling full grown men around, and in the back of his mind comes the absurd thought that he's never going to get the blood out of the shoulder of his jumper, and that sets off a prick of irritation that could swiftly bloom into something more dangerous for the men that have come after Karrde. Steadying the blaster in his hand, and keeping it trained on Danik, he makes an effort to look menacing, "Turn around and walk away. You don't want this." And again, to show how serious he is, he touches the blaster with the Force, kicking the power output over from stun strength to killing force. Danik stared at Brandis, frowning as he mentally yelled at himself for being so stupid enough to run right into the sights of Brandis's weapon. The pistol had been set to kill, now, as Danik heard it switch to that position. Well, he certainly walked right into a nasty prediciment... there was nothing he could do. The narrow alley prevented him from performing any crazy maneuvers to get out of his line of sight, and he would surely be dead before he could raise his blaster to aim. He could only hope on Indren, who was still behind him out of the alley. Hearing voices at very close range, Karrde attempts to see what's going on. Its a task that proves difficult, both due to his health and his position. Sighing shallowly, the man stays still, drifting off uneasily when his eyes close, and twitching as he forces them open again. Indren's reaction is instant and instinctive upon hearing Brandis words and seeing Danik's face. His hand darts from behind the wall and grabs the large collar of the gray trench coat the human is wearing and with the application of his body's weight, he pulls Danik out of the line of fire by letting his own armored figure fall off blanace in the opposite direction. The effect is Danik nearly being pulled off his feet, but pulled back safely. Indren ends up in a sitting position before scrambling to his feet. It only takes a breath, no...two, before Brandis whirls and continues his retreat from the field of battle, the battered, bleeding and conscious-bungee-ing smuggler catching hang-time on his shoulder. He doesn't really know what happened to Danik, who is nameless to him, even know, and he doesn't particularly care, so long as they have all managed to avoid shooting at each other further. He swiftly gets lost in the back alleys of Tatooine, helped along by a few of his vendor friends from the market that live in this area, and provide him with handy shortcuts through their homes when they catch wind of his dilemma. Before much longer, the burdened doctor drags into the townhouse, and sweeps the dining table clear with one arm before setting Karrde down. Now he can assess and treat the wound without fear of interruption. Mr. Karrde and Mr. Kreldin